A Fantasy of Mediterranean Travel | Page 9

generously rewarded, for I was added instanter to the Cork's "Hall of Fame" as the "Hero of the Deluge."
All our things were taken down to the furnace room and dried in a short time, and the Alley quickly regained its dignity and composure. I had to repair the damages to my room, but soon got it in perfect running order again; with added improvements it became a veritable Bohemian dream and I would not have left it for worlds. I could lie on my bed and get a drink of water without rising, reach for a cigar, sew on a missing button, open my treasury vaults to see how the funds were holding out, and when dressing could sit down on my only seat, a ten-cent camp stool, and take a short smoke while Steward Griffiths was filling my bath tub. But I was far from civilization, as the first-cabin baths were up two deck flights, then down one and back through a passage underneath where you started from; the round trip was a ten minutes' walk. I consoled myself with the reflection that it was needed exercise and in the best interests of hygiene.
The delights of Funchal exhausted, we were off again for a visit to Spain, landing after a short run at Cadiz.

SPAIN
CADIZ
There is not much to see in Cadiz but its Cathedral and the busy life of its people, who number 70,000. It is thoroughly calcimined in chromatic tints and looks fine as you approach it from the sea, but your enthusiasm wanes somewhat when you get into the picture and see that there are many places where the gilt has been knocked off the gingerbread and has not been put back again. But we must all take off our hats to the "old town," for it was there, indisputably, that Columbus rigged up and started for America. If he had only known what he was about and the people had understood all that was to happen, they would have had a brass band on the pier and have set off plenty of skyrockets in the evening. 'Twas ever thus! The "knockers" boo-ed him from their shores and said he was crazy, but history plants his feet on the topmost rung of fame long after the bitter end, when short commons were with him uncommon short.
SEVILLE
The "Corkonians" took the train for Seville, and it was a corker in length for it took three engines and all the first-class carriages in Andalusia to carry us to our destination.
The management had about a carload of plaited straw lunch baskets and filled them with good things, so we had a continuous picnic en route. When we arrived we found almost every carriage in this city of 150,000 people lined up in a big square for the distribution of the party, as the principle of procedure was, first come first served. There was a motion picture for you that lasted twenty minutes, but there was a place for every man and every man had his place, so we were all comparatively happy and started in to "do" the town.
Seville has one of the largest, finest and richest Gothic Cathedrals in existence; it has absolutely everything that can in reason be demanded of a cathedral, with or without price, including in part a full line of old masters, headed by Murillo and Velasquez (who were born here); bones of the good dead ones--and some bad ones--silver gilt organs, a court of orange trees in full bloom, the Columbian library (established by Fernando, Columbus' son), containing nothing but books, books, books! Then again there are acres--I was going to say--of stained glass windows, but perhaps I had better stick to the simple truth and say innumerable windows, showing every variation of the rainbow in their brilliant, deftly interwoven tints. Once more we find jewels of great price, solid silver trophies (which before the slump in silver would have placed any honest man above the corrosion of carking care); and wood-carving by masters of the trade whose artistic feeling was graphically described by our learned guide--known to the "Corks" as "Red Lead," on account of the lurid color of his hair. He wore an Oscar Hammerstein opera hat and seemed condemned to live on earth but for a certain time--and all whom he met wished for its speedy expiration. In a single, simple, instructive sentence he requested us to "Joost look at dat figger and see how the master have carve them feets; they are both two much alike."
[Illustration: CONSTANTINOPLE AND THE GOLDEN HORN CROSSED BY THE GALATA BRIDGE, WITH STAMBOUL IN THE FOREGROUND. THE YOUNG TURKS PRESENTED THIS AS THE FIRST SNAP OF THEIR OFFICIAL CAMERA. LATER THEY "DEDICATED" THE BRIDGE BY HANGING THE FIRST BATCH OF MURDERERS ON IT]
Most of these things,